Stories from the Soul
by kittyasha
Summary: soon to be a bunch of one-shots depicting Varric's tellings to Cassandra in Dragon Age 2 in a story format. I might do similar writings in the future if I were to o get good reviews...or if I feel like it.
1. Cinematic Intro

The murky, dimly lit corridor echoed with three distinct sounds. The first to be heard was the double pairs of resounding metal boots. The second was the distinct sliding of dragging feet. The third sound was that of a dwarf's ragged breathing. He was being hauled by two human men in shining armor. Their breastplates were of fine and freshly polished wear. The insignia on their chests branded a single eye with fire escaping from its lidless pupil.

The dwarf, by comparison, bore tattered and worn leather clothes the colour of sand. The dusky brown vest was opened wide and belts snaked his lower torso. He had long, straight hair the same pallor as his clothes with the top half tied back with a leather band. He had a high, beaded necklace with a shell hanging from the center and he adjourned exactly three earrings; one on the left, and two on the right. They were gold, same as his eyes, which were at this point trained on the stone ground in front of him, most likely contemplating his escape options.

He was a crafty dwarf, to say the least.

Eventually, the men and their prisoner reached their destination. One iron-clad man kicked a wooden door open into what the dwarf first believed was an empty room. It was dark save for a dim ray of light coming from a lonely window many stories above the ground. At its center was a large wooden chair. It was only when he was shoved into that very uncomfortable seat did the dwarf finally speak.

"I've had gentler invitations," he grunted. His words ended in a dry cough and he had to clear his throat loudly. If he had just sit quietly, he would have heard the gentle rustle of pages and the slow breathing from a woman standing just shy of the dim light. The dwarf shook his head irritably and squinted into the endless darkness in before him, sensing her presence. The woman stepped forward, her boots made dull thuds on the floor.

"I am Cassandra Pentaghast, seeker of the Chantry," she spoke clearly and with confidence. She bore the same armor as the men standing guard on either side of the dwarf's chair. Except her clothes were more elaborate, symbolizing her standing among the men. She had short, dark hair and glowing amber eyes. They seemed to be searching for something in the dwarf's gaze and he blinked hard, feeling a prickle of unease. This woman wanted to peer into his soul. She turned that steely gaze from him and nodded at the men, who abandoned the dwarf to his fate, closing the door on the way out. The dwarf forced nonchalance, referring to her introduction with a chuckle.

"And just…what are you seeking," he inquired lazily. She was not to be brushed aside, he would soon learn.

"The Champion," she answered curtly. The dwarf's breath hitched. That did not go unnoticed.

"Which one?" he examined his fingernails, avoiding the woman's stare. She rushed forward and hit his smirking face with a leather bound book. It fell open on his lap, forgotten for a moment because the woman's blade was at his throat.

"Time to start talking, dwarf!" she ordered. "They tell me you're good at it," with her venomous words, she turned her dagger down and stabbed it through the pages of the book. Dubiously, the dwarf lifted the book in his hands to observe the damage to the tome as she returned to her standing position a few feet from him.

With the woman's back to him, he said with a chuckle, "What do you want to know?" his voice was breathy from the near death experience. She turned back to him.

"Everything," she demanded simply. "Start at the beginning," the dwarf stroked the pages of the book lovingly, with the blade still implanted in its heart.

He did enjoy a good story…


	2. Cinematic Conclusion

_You still hear the stories of course. With each telling they grow, even if, at the core remains the truth. A new legend had been born…_

Varric watched as the Seeker gazed into the pages of the book mournfully. She had remained this way since he had finished his tale. The silence became crushing, so he broke it.  
>"So that's it," he concluded, leaning back in his wooden seat. "That's the whole story."<p>

Cassandra finally looked up, understanding dawning in her eyes. There was a short pause, as she put the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind. Varric waited patiently; he wasn't going anywhere.

"Then Meredith provoked the circle," the Seeker narrowed her eyes angrily. "She was to blame."

Varric was pleased to see no doubt in her eyes at this last declaration. He had achieved his goal, but instead of feeling relieved, his mind clouded with weariness. Still, there were other contributing factors to this mess that his captor needed to consider.

"Or that damned idol…or Anders," his last words dragged out regretfully. Memories of his friend's betrayal haunted his eyes. Yet everything, the expedition, Meredith, Bartrand…that idol was the center of it all, disrupting the balance of the world.

"Take your pick," he growled bitterly. He watched Cassandra closely. He could see that she was leading up to the reason for tonight's events. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. He grew more agitated by the second.

"Even so," her words were hesitant. "Had the Champion not been there…" She couldn't finish, looking to Varric, silently asking him to fill the blanks.

"It might have never even gone that far," he stated sympathetically. That weariness pushed down on him again. The seeker straightened, her stern composure restored.

"I see."

Varric took a deep breath, taking the issue into his own hands. He leaned forward, while Cassandra began to pace.

"So how is this going to help?" he inquired. "You've already lost all the circles. In fact, haven't the Templars rebelled as well?"

Cassandra faltered in her pacing, the comment about her own people striking close to home. Mentally, Varric shrugged; he wasn't exactly known for his tact. He leaned back, folding his hands like a scholar pondering a difficult problem.

And so it was.

"I thought you had decided to abandon the Chantry to hunt the mages."

The Seeker stepped forward, standing before him.

"Not all of us desire war Varric," she said. Much of the weariness the dwarf felt crept into her voice.

_It is a tiring age, _he decided. Cassandra took another step closer, meeting his eyes desperately.

"Please, if you know where the Champion is, you must tell me," she implored.

_Ahh. And here we are._

He eyed her skeptically. Seeing his expression, she pushed onwards.

"She is a hero," she stated simply, but with longing. "A woman that the mages would listen to—"she smiled wistfully. "—someone who was there at the beginning."

She absentmindedly stroked the tome she was holding. "The Champion can stop this madness before it's too late. She may be the only one who can."

Varric gazed at her sadly. The woman had a serious case of hero worship, but she was right, he would give her that. He shook his head, whishing someone would just hit him over the head already.

"Is this what this is all about?"

Cassandra said nothing; the answer was written on both their faces. Varric broke his eyes from hers and stared at the ground. He was silent for many moments before looking to her again. His eyes were pools of regret. He felt a surprising flash of frustrated anger towards both the Seeker, and the woman she was seeking. He didn't have all the answers dammit! And he wasn't responsible for the Champion's actions. Just as quickly as it flared, the anger died, leaving behind shame and even more regret.

"In that case, I wish I can help you."

He really did. He had come to admire the Seeker in their time in this chamber together. But.

Cassandra already saw the helplessness in his eyes. She ducked her head, hiding the disappointed tears, stubbornly refusing to let them fall.

"Just tell me one thing then,"

She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. The fierce light in them begged for the right answer to the question she was about to give.

"Is the Champion dead?"

Varric tensed, but he kept his tone light. If the Seeker noticed his dread, she gave no sign of it.

"Oh, I doubt that,"

As he said the words, thoughts of his old friend flashed before his eyes. The Champion, slaying a ferocious High Dragon. His friend, by his side while he confronted the empty shell that was his brother. His comrade, defending the mages against the Templars. His hero, rescuing him from his kidnappers. Suddenly, he believed his own words and there was a self-deprecating laugh after they were spoken. The Seeker scrutinized him, seeming to look for something in his eyes. After a moment, it looked like she found it. Her gaze flickered with what can only be described as hope, but her face remained ever impassive.

"Then you are free to go Varric."

She turned and strode purposefully to the door. "May the Maker watch over you during the dark times ahead of us," she called over her shoulder. Maybe she had grown fond of the sly dwarf as well. Long after she left, Varric finally replied from his chair in the dark room.

"Same to you seeker. Same to you…"

Cassandra marched out of the stone walls where she had been buried inside with a rogue dwarf for several hours. Her subordinates waited, anticipation thick in the air. Ignoring them, her gaze scoured the courtyard for a familiar face. A soft voice sounded far to her side, growing louder as it came closer.

"So, did you—"

"Gone," Cassandra interrupted. She didn't want to see the defeat in the other woman's eyes reflected back at her. The red-haired woman stepped to the Seeker's side, her presence shone like a beacon of the Maker's light. Cassandra choked back an irrational sob at the sorrowful news she had to break to her partner, comrade and friend.

"Just like the Warden." She added bitterly. With an irritated wave of her hand, her subordinates left the two alone. Her comrade looked deep into her eyes.

"That is no coincidence," she declared gravely. The red-haired woman's eyes turned distant and thoughtful. Cassandra suddenly felt the need to do _something! _Anything to save their endangered world.

"So, do we proceed with the original plan?" she demanded, attempting—and failing—to keep the impatience from her voice. Her friend glanced at her curiously.

"Or, keep looking?" Cassandra offered. The other woman reached for the book in the Seeker's hands, clutching it like it was the key to saving them all.

"It's in the Maker's hands now." She announced quietly. "We put our faith in Him now."

Cassandra inclined her head respectfully before joining the last of her troops as they exited the courtyard into the now unfamiliar world.

Leliana blinked slowly before staring down at the book, with a bleakness she never allowed anyone to see, for then they too, would lose all hope.


End file.
